


From the First

by LynMars79



Series: Tales of the Seventh Era [10]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Backstory, Coming of Age, Gen, Grief, Heavensward, Night's Blessed, Norvrandt, Role Quests, The Source - Freeform, shadowbringers, the first - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25271506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LynMars79/pseuds/LynMars79
Summary: Vignettes, Prompts, and other short writings about the characters of Norvrandt andShadowbringers. Spoilers rampant, see the Table of Contents in Chapter 1.
Series: Tales of the Seventh Era [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632094
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	1. Table of Contents

These have been edited to varying degrees from their original postings on Tumblr.

**1 Table of Contents** \- You are here.

**2 Saved** \- The Shadowkeeper, in the immediate aftermath of defeat, pre-Flood.

**3 Hero** \- Ardbert on the Source during _Heavensward_.

**4 Warning** \- A Night's Blessed priest doesn't trust Urianger.

**5 Meanwhile: Whispers** \- Estinien on a mission with the Shadowhunters on the Source.

**6 Getting Used To** \- The Oracle of Light is allowed to grow up and step out of her guardian's protective shadow.


	2. Saved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Shadowkeeper in the immediate moments after defeat. Spoilers for the final role quest capstone.

She had failed.

Panting in the courtyard, kneeling on the rain-soaked pavement, watching them walk away-- _please don’t leave me, please come back--_ all she could think about was her ruined home, awaiting its salvation.

She had been a Warrior of Light. She was supposed to save everyone.

A wolf’s howl outside the walls, cut short. One of hers. She was not a Warrior of Light on this world, but a force for Darkness. Of the change necessary to…to…

She sobbed; an ugly, ragged sound. Her gauntlets pounded the ground, a flagstone cracking under her assault.

_What have I become?_

She was no saint, no savior. That was _him_ , the man she had goaded into killing her--who had instead granted her mercy. He had called her sister, and it had been lightning straight through her core.

She had given them the Ascians. It wasn’t enough. _Nothing_ would be enough. Not after all she had done.

Hiccuping, nose running, hair plastered to her head and rain water down the back of her cuirass, she shakily got to her feet. She thought of leaving the sword, but in the end her practicality won out and she retrieved it, her fingers numb around its hilt.

By the time she reached the front gate of the Loft, they were long gone, their amaro specks in the distance. The cooling bodies of wargs showed there had been some release for their anger after all.

_I deserve this, but please come back, come back–-_

The rain pattered out, the clouds parting and light peeking past them.

The light did not see the Shadowkeeper, for the woman walking away from the Loft discarded that name, as she had all her others before it.

A new name. A new start. Once again. Perhaps someday that cycle would end.

Perhaps someday, if she still warranted a modicum of the Mother’s Blessing, they would be the saviors she and her first family had not been.

Perhaps someday, she would find a way to return this punishing favor, and save _them_.


	3. Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Heavensward_ timeframe, in Dravania's Chocobo Forest...

Mietta checked the sky before venturing into the meadow. While word was that Nidhogg was dead—slain by the Azure Dragoon and the Warrior of Light—but that didn’t mean the dragons were any less dangerous to a lone chocobo hunter.

Well. Soon to be chocobo hunter. Hopefully. If she could just prove herself to the chief. So Mietta was going to catch a chocobo, and show that she was, in fact, old enough and big enough and smart enough to work with the other hunters.

The skies were clear of winged fiends that might devour young elezen. She nodded to herself and began to cross the clearing, in search of the quarry she had marked out. The trail was a few bells old but she knew persistence was part of a hunter’s requirements.

A few yalms off to her right was a low growl. Mietta froze, slowly turning her gaze that way. From the long grasses a bandersnatch rose, a gold feather caught on the side of its bloody maw. And now it had found its next meal.

Mietta tried to hold back the scream that threatened to leave her throat, turning it into more of a whimper as she fumbled with her small bow; an inadequate weapon against the towering beast, but all she had, aside from her dagger. It watched her, tail lashing, taking its time as it set to pounce. It knew it had won already.

As it leapt, she did scream. Trying to run only led to falling on the ground.

A man’s voice roared almost as loud as the bandersnatch. The solid sound of steel colliding with flesh was far louder than it had right to be to Mietta’s terrified ears. The bandersnatch yowled and the man yelled again, the creature’s entire attention on him.

Mietta cowered in the grass, curled in a ball, eyes squeezed shut, covering her ears. It did nothing to drown the sounds; the bandersnatch’s snarls, the man’s cursing, the dull thump of a weapon sinking into flesh eliciting another pained yowl, a heavy thump of a body hitting the ground.

Silence.

Mietta carefully blinked open her eyes as she uncurled, daring to look. The bandersnatch lay in a bloody heap, the grasses obscuring the worst of it, thank gods. She turned her attention to the man who had come to her rescue.

He was a hyur, perhaps in his twenties, with brown hair and stubble lining his chin. He wore heavy black armor, and his axe was stained with more than the bandersnatch’s blood. He hooked the massive weapon onto his back and turned to her, his eyes a piercing blue. “Ah, there you are. All right then?”

Mietta nodded, unable to speak, throat still gripped by fear.

He smiled; tense, but not unkind. “Come on. Let’s get you back to town, eh?” He held out his hand. 

She couldn’t help but smile back as she took it, letting him haul her to her feet. They began the trek back toward Tailfeather. The man tried at first to coax conversation from her, but soon gave up, as fear and shame kept her tongue tied.

About a half malm from the gates, Mietta winced as old Loupard came into sight. He looked taken aback a moment, then ran forward. “Thank Halone, you found her! Her mother’s worried sick!”

The hyur nodded. “Had a bit of a scare, but it’s naught some care shouldn’t be able to fix, so long as no one’s too rough on her.”

Loupard looked between the man and the girl. “What sorta scare?”

The man hesitated. “One of those…I believe they’re called bandersnatch? It got to the chocobo it seemed she was tracking first. I was…passing through, and luckily heard the commotion.”

Loupard let out a long, shuddery breath. “Hopefully certain young ladies take this lesson to heart, ‘bout why we have rules for who can go out, and when, and with partners.” He shook his head. “I ain’t got anythin’ to repay your kindness, but if you come back to town—”

The hyur held up his hands. “Ah, no, there’s no need for that. Just…happy to help.” He seemed to be almost embarrassed suddenly. He turned quickly and began to walk away.

“Mister!” Mietta called, finally finding her voice.

The hyur paused, looking back with another small, tense smile. “Ah, you do speak. You listen to your elder there and take care, all right?”

“Th-thank you. For saving me,” Mietta said.

“Aye, a true hero,” Loupard said. “Like the Warrior of Light.”

The hyur’s face suddenly clouded and he turned away again. “Don’t look at me like I’m a hero,” he said, tone bitter. “Better not to of anyone, even the Warriors of Light. You’ll only disappoint yourself.”

Mietta frowned as he stalked away, and she looked up at Loupard. “What did he mean by that?”

Loupard watched as the man disappeared into the woodline. “If I had to guess, he’s a man who does the right thing–even after it’s cost him everythin’.” He shook his head. “Come on; let’s get you home ‘fore your mother tears up half the forest.”

Mietta looked at the trees where the hyur had disappeared, still not understanding, but she nodded as if she did and followed Loupard back to Tailfeather.


	4. Warning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre- _Shadowbringers_. Felina is a NPC-OC, a doppelganger for one of the Warrior of Light's "Echo-blessed allies" on the Source that helps fight primals (and an excuse to not have an RP alt on the First while playing with some new concepts; she just also happened to work for this prompt).

It was easy to forget that the galdjent woman was not Dark Autumn. The physical similarities were uncanny; warm brown skin, thick black hair worn long, golden eyes. They were even of a similar muscular build and exceedingly tall height.

But where Dark excelled in martial skills and could barely cast the most basic of spells, Felina was an expert magus, eschewing martial weapons unless she had little other choice. A priest’s staff and traditional Night’s Blessed robes--today in a glossy blue--were her preference. And they did, Urianger thought, compliment the woman’s form very well, even from an entirely objective viewpoint.

Though it was difficult to remain objective with said priest’s staff pressed against his throat just under his chin and its owner glowering down at him, gold eyes narrowed in suspicion. She held him right at the edge of the tower’s walkway, a good forty fulms over the houses and narrow streets of Fort Gohn.

“I am sorry to have given thee cause to mistrust mine intentions,” Urianger said after a moment of silent staring. He had used the time to go back over their conversation up to this point, and he had to admit he was impressed by her subtly drawing out as much as she had from him.

“I overheard your argument with Master Matoya,” Felina said simply. “She is hurt that you seem to be withholding something, at that Crystal Exarch’s behest. She wants to trust you--but she distrusts _him_ , and has told me a little of why.”

That was surprising, and Urianger was certain he had not hidden that from his expression quickly enough. Then again, was it truly surprising, when Felina looked so much like a friend, one of the Warrior of Light’s own boon companions able to fight primals and other threats to Eorzea? It certainly explained how Felina had been able to bait him so well, if she had also learned more than she ought to from Y’shtola.

It also likely helped Felina was one of the few among the Night’s Blessed so far to accept the strange “mystel” woman; they had cause to be cautious, and Felina’s challenge of Urianger’s own intentions made sense in that regard. It would not surprise him if she were worried that she had made a mistake in accepting the outsiders, given what she must have overheard.

“My association with the Exarch is more…complicated than I care for,” Urianger admitted. He pushed down his own sense of ambivalence at having to once again keep such secrets from his dearest friends. “‘Tis rare that I cannot say unto…Master Matoya all that I know, but she understands I have my reasons.”

“I’m not sure she does,” Felina replied. She drew back her staff and looked away, eyes closed in thought for a moment. “You have the right to call Master Matoya by her true name. You even stumble on the name she wears in the Light.”

“Yes,” Urianger said. “I have known the lady since we were but children in our homeland.”

“You’re family. And family sometimes argues,” Felina said, opening her eyes and looking down over the village.

Urianger did not reply, watching her and attempting to guess what would come next. It was difficult, when he kept conflating this woman with her doppelganger back in the Source. For all their physical similarities, Felina and Dark Autumn were different women.

“You, Master Matoya--even the Exarch, say you came to Norvrandt to help. And I believe you think that.”

“However?”

“No one can know everything, not even a strange old wizard in his mystical tower. Believing you know what’s best for others isn’t the same thing as it actually _being_ the best for them--more often, it’s pure arrogance.” Felina gestured over the village and the people below. “These people are _my_ family, and if you hurt them in any way I will kill you.”

There was no heat behind the words, no withheld emotion. Simple fact, based on what little information she had and the realities of life under the Everlasting Light. In that way, not so different from his distant colleague after all. Dark was also a rather practical, straightforward woman.

“You have my vow, my lady, it shall not come to that. My arrival to the realm was not intentional, but I shall do all in my power to aid thee and thine against the harms that plague this land.”

“Perhaps you can _talk_ to the sin eaters to death,” Felina said dryly. “And for Master Matoya’s sake, I hope you and that Exarch know what in the hells you’re doing.” She turned on her heel and strode off, the long skirts of her robe swirling, the Light above gleaming over the soft, blue cloth.

 _As do I_ , Urianger thought as he watched her walk away.


	5. Meanwhile: Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes during _Shadowbringers_ , we just have to check back with certain friends in the Source...

What a reticent bunch they were, Estinien mused as they crept along the wall, looking for the rear entrance to the facility. There was no need for reminders of quiet for any of them; none were of a talkative nature.

Hells, he hadn’t even asked the other two their names yet, nor had they offered. He probably ought to rectify that, sooner than later. Assuming they minded being referred to as “mage” and “lancer,” in any case. Estinien had never been good at remembering fellow soldiers' names. The number of casualties in the long, bloody war had made it seem futile. Until Estinien met Aymeric, anyroad; damned fool wouldn't _let_ Estinien forget him.

Gaius raised a fist, bringing them all to an instant halt. A brief glance showed guards ahead. A few more than expected, Estinien thought; must be time for shift change. After a moment’s consideration, Gaius drew Heirsbane. The others followed suit.

The whisper of weapons drawn from leather and cloth began the stir of anticipation in Estinien’s veins, his lance responding with a warm, hungry gleam. “Easy, Nidhogg,” he murmured, ignoring the side-glance from the lancer. She couldn’t hear the susurrant song, an echo of the ancient chorus of war. It played on the edge of Estinien’s hearing, making his ears twitch as he nodded in response to the former legatus’ hand signals.

A bend to the knees, a pull of wind aether, and he was landing, light-footed, on the roof of the guard shack. The poor fools never thought to look up; they rarely did. The tune grew louder in his ears, and Nidhogg seemed to rumble and growl in his hands.

The signal was given and the song rose to a crescendo in his borrowed memories as he leapt again, his dragonsfire the only voice needed to express that old melody.


	6. Getting Used To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Never saw one without the other, did you?”_

It takes some getting used to.

For so long, the young Oracle could most reliably be seen in the shadow of her guardian, a handsome, light-haired hume in armor and a long white coat, with a strange custom weapon on his back. He was already easy enough to pick out of a crowd, even moreso after the Warrior of Darkness arrived, the young Oracle and her bodyguard joining their comrades in fighting the Light.

And the child remained safely at his side. She never strayed far, and if you saw one you had but to cast your eyes around the vicinity to find the other--and gods help you if the guardian disliked the attention shown to his charge. His tongue was as sharp as his foreign blade, and he was well versed in using both.

But change followed in the wake of Norvrandt’s Champion, and the Oracle changed with their adventures. No longer _A_ Minfilia, but given her own name and even appearance.

No longer only seen in the shadow of a stalwart bodyguard, but more and more often on her own.

A natural change, of course, especially as a girl on the cusp of growing up-- _allowed now_ to grow up, unlike all of her predecessors, so many girls forever locked in childhood by their gift’s usefulness against the formerly unstoppable sin eaters.

She doesn’t always need her guardian anymore.

But it is a difficult habit to break; to talk to the girl and not cast an eye about for the man in the white coat. Or to look anyway, and be a little surprised to not find him in the immediate vicinity, watching over her.

Sometimes, the young Oracle will still look around herself, as if seeking someone. Then pause, take a breath, and turn her attention back to her current task or conversation, her smile perhaps, maybe, a little more forced.

Children grow up. Norvrandt’s Oracle finally has the chance to do so herself. She has stepped out of her guardian’s shadow to stand on her own, as is the natural order of things.

Still, it takes some getting used to, seeing one without the other.


End file.
